


Little Darlin’

by acciosnapes



Category: JDM - Fandom, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Fandom, The Walking Dead, Twd - Fandom, negan’s army
Genre: Alexandria - Freeform, Angst, Badass, Canon Divergent, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hilltop, Humor, Kink, Post Apocalypse, Prisoners, Protection, Romance, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, Sex, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Teacher/Professor, Teacher/Student, Underage - Freeform, Walkers, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, age gap, the kingdom - Freeform, young/old
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 00:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciosnapes/pseuds/acciosnapes
Summary: Negan was your old high school history teacher, an intelligent man with a wicked sense of humor and quick wit. You soon run into him, long after the apocalypse began, at a place called the Sanctuary. Negan was the leader of this said place, now a strong willed man with a dirty mouth and a stubborn head. You loved him before, and you still love him now. When you get separated from him once more, you meet Negan in a cell run by your father. Yet this time, he isn’t the same. This time, he’s much different from the man he used to be.





	Little Darlin’

“-Although it was made by the allies after World War II, the Elbe Triest line played a key roll with the Soviet Union and their westward expansion during the period before and following the Cold war.” The teacher walked around the front of the room, a little smile dancing across his lips. 

The room was full of dull faces, tired eyes, bouncing pencils, crumpled up pieces of paper. But you? You sat straight and high, a big smile stretched over your face. Every so often you played with the piece of hair that escaped your two braids, humming softly as you took avid notes, only once or twice letting your eyes drift across his figure. You let yourself stare, catching his gaze. Immediately your stomach filled with butterflies, a grin spreading across your face. That little act took a lot of confidence, yet the man noticed and smiled back, contributing on with the history lesson. 

Who wouldn’t be attracted to Negan? Someone who wasn’t in their right mind, that’s for sure. You knew you were attracted to him, hell, you were feeling more than that for him though. Late at night? Late at night when you’d wonder about him, wonder about what he was doing. His voice danced through your head, guiding you along through your sleeping. Conversations replayed over and over in your head, Negan haunting you always. 

Today he was wearing a pair of jeans and a long sleeved white shirt, the sleeves rolled up. Behind the material, you could see his well worked biceps trying to get out, his tattoos vibrant against the room a lightning. 

But your thoughts were stopped when the bell rang, a heavy sigh escaping you. 

You packed up your things slowly, always being the last person to walk out of the room. By that point, Negan has returned to his desk and was flipping through papers, humming to himself quietly. 

“Professor?” You asked softly, gently biting down on your lip. 

“Negan.” He correctes you, glancing up to meet your eyes as a smile stretched across his mouth. 

“Oh. Yes, sorry, sir. Uh, Negan?” You started again, returning the soft smile. 

“Yes, little darlin’?” 

Your cheeks heated up dark red, and you were glad you were wearing makeup to cover it all up today. “I, um...” You cleared your throat softly and pulled up a chair, sitting beside him. “Today’s lesson was great, you know your class is my favorite. But you say that the Elbe Triste line was used only for the Soviets, right?” 

Negan nodded, standing up and putting on his coat. He motioned for you to follow him out, and you grabbed your backpack and binder, following him. “But if you look at it, on the map and how it stops right in the middle of Italy, you can also use it for history that dates back to the Renaissance. I-I mean who came to America first?” 

“Spain, England and France.” He nodded, looking at you with a grin. 

“Yes! Exactly! All west of the line. Who founded the Renaissance?” 

“The Médicis.” You both responded in unison. 

“From Italy! Western Italy, Negan. It shows so much too, geographical, medical, scientific, artistic. I think this could show so much more than just Soviet use, don’t you?” 

Negan chuckled as he got to the door that led to his car, pressing his palm against the bar to push it open as he glanced at you. “That’s a very intelligent observation, little darlin’.” He looked at you, biting down on his lip. “But for now, I think we’ll just stick it with the Soviets.” 

“But sir...this could help out-”

“Have a good evening, little darlin’. I’ve got a wife at home waiting for me, and you’ve been givin’ me a whole lot to think about.” Negan shot you a smile, walking out of the building.

With a heavy sigh you cleared your throat, walking out to catch the las bus before it left school. Getting home you yawned, searching through the cabinets, humming to yourself. “How’s dad doing, momma?” You called from the kitchen.

“Still under.” She frowned, and the front door opened.

Glancing at it, you saw your dads closest friend Shane standing there, fear written across his face. “We gotta get out of here. Now.”

Your mom stood up from the couch, glancing at Carl who was reading a comic book on the chair. “What do you mean?” She asked, face twisting with confusion.

“Turn on the damn tv. Ain’t nothin’ been right lately. I knew there was a reason why, Lori.”

Your mom grabbed a remote and flipped on the tv, gasping softly. On the screen were videos of humans attacking other humans, but they didn’t really look alive. Bloody, rotten, flesh flaking away at the mouth and the eyes sagging. They looked dead. In fact, they were dead. So you stood in the kitchen door way, watching with a half eaten apple in your hand, appetite suddenly gone.

“Pack bags. Quick.” You’re mom ordered, and Carl rushes to her side with tears rushing to his eyes.

“What about dad?” You snapped, jaw clenching.

“(F/n), Lori...guys he didn't make it. I just came back from there, the hospital was gettin’ overrun.”

“What?” She whispered, eyes pooling. “He’s-he’s...”

“There’s no times left, mom. We have to pack.” You clenched your jaw clenching momentarily. “We have to get out of here.”

“I’ve heard there’s camps poppin’ up, tryna protect people. National Guard and Army have all started them, if we find onna those I’m sure we can get to safety.”

You nodded and ran up the stairs, grabbing a duffel bag. You packed a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and a few shirts, some other clothing items and leggings. Your eyes scraped around the room, landing on a leather bound journal on the desk. Quickly you stuffed it inside, along with your polaroid camera and a photo album, hearing commotion going on outside.

“We have to leave now, Lori!” Shane shouted, and you heard Carl crying.

“But my baby! (F/n)!” She cried out, and you heard the front door opening.

“We can’t leave her here, mom.”

You heard a growl and a thud, Shane’s heavy breathing. You tried to zip up the bag quicker, stuffing the last things you needed inside of it. But by the time you had grabbed one last pair of shoes, the front door was ajar and a dead man was laying on the floor, Shane’s car gone from the driveway.

Glancing at the clock, you saw the handle now at six. But by the time your anger had worn off and you were done wrapping duct taped around your sleeved arms and shoulders, the hand was at seven.

Clenching your jaw you went into your parents room, seeing your dads safe pressed into the corner. You knew the password due to being secretly up during a late night conversation between your parents that wasn’t meant for your ears.

You didn’t know what you were exactly looking for, but you grabbed another duffel bag and stuffed everything inside, rushing out the door after grabbing the keys to your moms car.

You got to the garage and opened it, immediately being hit by the commotion. Neighbor did yours ran around, being chased by the dead, screaming and wailing and falling. You backed up, not knowing if you were going to hit anyone, ignoring the thuds that came with your frantic driving.

Turning on the radio you let out shaky breaths, panic rushing over you as you tried to listen to the station telling the news.

Your own mother, a man who was like an uncle to you- they left you. They just left you.

“Forget about it now, Grimes. They’re gone. New life, right? New world. Apocalyptic or not. You’re gonna make it. You’re strong.” You whispered to yourself, hitting traffic going out. You rolled up the windows, glancing over to the car beside you.

There he was, in all of his glory. You could hear the radio behind his windows playing the current news, his cheeks wet with tears. And beside Negan, there was no wife. Just an old baseball bat sitting in the passengers side. Maybe that’s why he was crying. Maybe he watched her go.

But you knew she also had cancer, and maybe a peaceful death took her out before one of those monsters could.

Negan looked at you, eyes full of emotion. The red light ahead turned green, and he didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. J’en just pressed his hand agaisnt the window and gave you a little smile, driving off.

That was the last you ever saw of him. That was the last person you knew from before that ever showed you any more kindness.

You found a base, ran by the National Guard, but when they started shootig people down, you had to go. Grabbing your things you began to run to your car, seeing a crying baby left alone in a carrier, a half eaten man crawling towards him. When the man’s face hit the light radiating from your car, he gasped up at you.

“Take the baby! Take her and go, please! I don’t want to turn into one of those fuckers and eat her.” He cried out, heavy sobs escaping his bloody mouth.

“I-I don’t know how to take care of a baby! I’m only sixteen.” You whispered, tears pricking your eyes.

“And she’s only one. She doesn’t deserve this.”

You looked at the guilt and grief plastered onto the father’s face, and you picked up the carrier, biting your lip. “Her name?”

“Mabel. Just take her and go, please.”

You looked at the agonizing scene before you, grabbing your gun and shooting him square in the head. The sound of the bullet ricocheting the air was masked by screams and chaos.

The baby in the backseat was crying, and you gently reached your hand back, letting her grasp it tightly. Soon, her crying was stopped, and you were driving along a backroad, soon finding yourself away from Georgia all together.

Time passed, time went. Mabel grew, you hardened. And soon you found yourself in Virginia, far away from anywhere you had ever been before. Facing new threats, new foes.


End file.
